cornerofmadness (cornerofmadness) wrote in fm_alchemist,

  • Mood:
  • Music:

A triplet of Ficlets

All three were written for fanfic_bakeoff's 'shine' prompt this month.

Title- Allegory
Author - cornerofmadness
Fandom- Fullmetal Alchemist
Rating - PG-13
Characters- Winry, Roy, implied Ed/Winry
Timeline/Spoilers- set after 108 so spoilers for everything
Summary- She can’t believe he doesn’t know the wrench is an allegory
Word Count- 300
warnings- none
Author’s Note-written mostly because I’m surprised how many people don’t get Winry’s wrench is an allegory, it’s a hyperspace mallet. Winry has her wrench, Riza her gun, Kaori her mallet, Sanzo his fan, Kamiya her shenai, Sango her hiraikotsu, you get the idea. It’s not meant to be serious. And thanks to my flist who gave me copious examples, which are not all listed here.


“What’s wrong with you? You’d have to be a complete idiot to think I actually hit Ed in the head with a wrench.” Winry’s palms slapped down on Mustang’s desk as she glowered.

The general tried to figure out just when their talks about bringing mechanics out to the Ishbalan desert to help set up a new clinic had slipped into a discussion about how dumb he was. “Ed said…”

Winry thumped back down into her chair. “And you always say, Riza had her gun on you. Has she actually ever shot you?”

“Not yet, but she’s probably thinking about it now,” he said sheepishly, hearing a stifled laugh from his anteroom.

“Mostly Ed manages to irritate me when I’m working so there’s always a wrench in hand. That’s how it started,” Winry said. “When I chew his head off, usually for something dumb he’s done, he started calling it me hitting him with a wrench. I love him, after all. Why would I hit him?”

“To be honest, that’s what I was hoping for. The boy’s completely stupid for you even if it took him forever to admit it. It’s just that he has this shiner under his eye…”

”He was sparing with Al and there was a miscalculation. I’m afraid to know how many times Al’s hit him in the head.” Winry scowled. “Though I was tempted. Have you seen his leg? Looks like he used it to grate cheese. The shine is all gone and it’s dented. Without his alchemy to fix it, I get to see the crap he gets up to.”

“Hawkeye will tell you most grown men are still boys.” Another laugh. “Ed’s lucky, intelligent fiery women are just so attractive.” Roy reached for the telephone. “Excuse me a second, I have a florist to call.”

Title- Be Not Proud
Author - cornerofmadness
Fandom- Fullmetal Alchemist
Rating - PG-13
Characters- Pinako
Timeline/Spoilers- set after 108 so spoilers for everything
Summary- Everyone is leaving her
Word Count- 300
warnings- canon character death
Author’s Note-It struck me odd just how calm Pinako was about Hohenheim’s fate. I felt she must be hiding her feelings well. Also partially inspired by my grandmother (who’ll be 95 next week) and many of my former patients as they outlived their friends.


When she first saw the reflected shine of the sun off Trisha’s tombstone and the shock of long golden hair against it, Pinako had headed down to the graveyard to give Hohenheim a piece of her mind. When she first called his name, she thought maybe the wind had snatched the words away. However, repeated and louder calls got no response, making the old woman’s legs shake as she walked. Her heart did disreputable things as her chest tightened.

Pinako had seen a lot of death in her day and very little of it as peaceful as Hohenheim’s seemed to have been. She even told him so, but it was a bluff. She needed to calm herself down. How the hell could he be dead? She wanted to kick his corpse. She wanted to fall down in the dirt and just sob. At her age, Pinako was used to her friends dying, but it shouldn’t have been Hohenheim. He was supposed to bury her.

How was she going to tell the boys? She had gotten one quick call to tell her and Winry Ed and Al were alive, but the call hadn’t lasted long for her questions to be answered. She didn’t even know how to call them and tell them their father had joined their mother just like he wanted. Winry might know the number.

Pinako sat on the grass, resting her head against Hohenheim’s unmoving, broad back. “It’s not fair, Hohenheim,” she whispered, tear wending their way down her wrinkled cheeks. “I have so few friends left. I know you’re happy where you are.” Her voice hitched. “And I’m alone.” She stroked his hair. “I’ll take care of you.” Picking herself up, Pinako headed home to call the undertaker. Burying another loved one, her oft-patched heart broke again.

Title- Shine with a Vengeance
Author - cornerofmadness
Fandom- Fullmetal Alchemist
Rating - PG-13
Characters- Kimbley
Timeline/Spoilers- set during the Ishbal arc
Summary- give him shiny death and destruction any day
Word Count- 267
warnings- Kimbley’s potty mouth
Author’s Note-Because I know how fun it is to play with mercury…


He always liked things with a brilliant shine to them. He was admittedly a magpie that way. Kimbley fondly remembered playing with mercury as a child in his master’s lab, watching it shimmer as it moved. There had been a bully at school that had made his life, among others, miserable until Kimbley tricked the boy into stealing his precious bottle of mercury. Stupid Tony Nelson played the ultimate game of keep away with it, drinking it down. It had been hard not to smirk at the moron’s funeral.

Kimbley became fascinated with death after that: death and the beauty of explosions. That moment just before things began to pull apart was the best, the knowledge that in seconds something was going to lose its form, rearranged with perfect chaos. His master had been just as thrilled with the destruction. She’d get so hot from it, she’d fuck him into the ground once he got old enough to enjoy such things. However, his master was into the academics of their alchemy and he aspired to something more ‘real.’

Now, in the desert, whenever he was frustrated – which was often. He had yet managed to talk a certain powerful flame-wielder, what a beautiful talent that was, into his bed - Kimbley turned to his love of shiny things for comfort. Whenever he’d stroke the gleaming silver of his watch, think about what he had done to the bullies over the years, to the people who always said he’d amount to nothing, Kimbley thought about showing their graves the mark of his rank. He was something important, after all.

  • Post a new comment


    Comments allowed for members only

    Anonymous comments are disabled in this journal

    default userpic

    Your reply will be screened

    Your IP address will be recorded